


Celebration

by DancingForRain



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Birthdays, Human AU, M/M, Mentions of Emotional Abuse, Modern AU, Romance, amanda is connor's mother, generous markus, loving markus, markus was this close to becoming a sugar daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 09:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16405346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingForRain/pseuds/DancingForRain
Summary: Connor doesn't like his birthday. Markus wants to change that.





	Celebration

**Author's Note:**

> I have absolutely no clue where this came from. I'm pretty sure it was originally gonna be a drabble about Connor's emotional abuse at the hands of Amanda, but I guess I got caught up in the RK1000 romance?? Literally I had no idea where the story was going the whole time I wrote it, I very nearly ended up accidentally making Markus a sugar daddy and thus a very different fic.
> 
> So, this might be kind of all over the place. But I had fun writing it, so oh well.

Connor doesn’t like his birthday.

This was clear from pretty much the beginning. Back when Markus and Connor were still getting to know each other he had asked when it was, and Connor had shut down, only said that it didn’t matter, he didn’t celebrate it.

 _Because_ they were still getting to know each other, Markus hadn’t pushed. And as their friendship grew, slowly morphed from making polite conversation at the gym to chatting over coffee to… whatever this thing between them is now, Markus had started to hazard a few guesses as to why. He assumes it’s something to do with whatever nightmare family he grew up with. Family, like birthdays, is a sensitive subject for Connor. But there have been hints, here and there, that his childhood was not a happy one. Downright traumatic, Markus thinks, if the rare but intense panic attacks he’s witnessed are any indication.

Hank definitely knows. As far as Markus can tell Hank and Connor pretty much know everything about each other. Their meeting is apparently legendary within the Detroit Police Training Academy. The way the story goes, Hank had been strong-armed into hosting a lecture and was quite happy to sleep his way through the allotted hour. One of their youngest, brightest recruits, eager to learn and not knowing how to back down, told Hank exactly what he thought of that. No one can seem to entirely agree on exactly how the ensuing argument went, only that it was beautiful and terrifying to watch.

The way Connor tells it, he was just speaking his mind and ensuring he got the most out of his education, and Hank respected that about him.

The way Hank tells it, Connor was an upstart little shit with no sense of self-preservation and needed some lessons on how the real damn world worked.

Either way, they’ve become something of a package deal; Connor now rents the spare bedroom at Hank’s (something Markus secretly regrets during movie nights, because it is impossible to put the moves on someone when their not-quite dad is hovering) and it’s an unspoken assumption that Connor will go on to work with Hank once he’s graduated. Apparently Connor improves Hank’s work ethic.

But the point is, Hank knows why Connor hates his birthday. This is confirmed for Markus the one time he tries asking the Lieutenant about it.

“When’s Connor’s birthday?”

Hank raises an eyebrow over his mug of coffee. He’s always had an unnatural talent for making Markus feel about a foot tall. “Why d’ya need to know?”

“I know he’s not really a fan of it, but I was thinking, maybe we could throw him a surprise party or something.” Hank’s eyebrow impossibly climbs higher, unimpressed. “I thought, you know, we could show him how much fun it can be – “

“That’s not what birthdays are, for Connor.”

“I know, but – “

“No. You don’t.” Hank sighs, lowers his mug. “Listen. His issue with this isn’t because his birthdays aren’t fun. His birthdays were never _about_ fun, okay, that’s not what birthdays are to him.” Markus knows the confusion must show on his face, because Hank rolls his eyes and tries again. “He doesn’t think he’s missing out, Markus. He just… has an idea about what birthdays are, what they represent, and he’d rather skip the whole thing. Frankly, I don’t blame him.”

Hank doesn’t explain further than that and Markus doesn’t ask because at that moment Connor arrives in the kitchen, dog leash in hand and Sumo barking at his heels. He’s smiling, a light flush to his cheeks as he announces he’s ready to go. Markus has to drag his eyes from the attractive dusting of red along his cheekbones before he can answer.

* * *

North says he’s obsessing, but she always says that when he talks about Connor.

“Why’s it matter? So he doesn’t like birthdays, big deal. Simon doesn’t like his birthday.”

“Simon _pretends_ he doesn’t like his birthday,” Markus corrects. “He puts up a big fuss about how he doesn’t want to celebrate it and he doesn’t want the day to be about him but he still gets that big grin on his face every time we show up with presents.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about,” North nods knowingly, and Markus looks at her questioningly. “You want to give Connor a _present_ ,” she elaborates with an exaggerated wink. Markus rolls his eyes and shoves her. “Do you want to give him your _package_ , Markus?” He shoves her harder so that she falls off the couch, but that doesn’t stop her delighted cackling.

“I just want him to be able to enjoy it,” mumbles Markus. “Birthdays are supposed to be a celebration, they’re supposed to be… happy.” He keeps thinking about all of his birthdays, all the extravagant parties Carl threw him when he was a child, the jumping castles and big cakes and him running, laughing and screaming with all of the other kids. He thinks of the dinners they’d have when he was a teenager, him and Carl and even Leo, sometimes, sitting and eating together and sharing cake before he’d go off to party with his friends. He wants Connor to have memories like that, wants Connor to think of his birthday and smile, laugh at the memories, he wants… “I want him to be happy.”

“That’s sickening,” says North casually with an affectionate pat to his leg from where she remains lying on the floor. She makes up for it by offering some actual advice, though. “You can make him happy, Markus – hell, you do make him happy. All the time. He lights up as soon as you enter the freaking room, seriously, it’s going to be hell when you two actually start dating – “

“If,” Markus corrects sheepishly, because he’s definitely going to ask Connor out, soon, he is, but he hasn’t quite… managed it yet. All signs point to Connor being interested, but there’s always that chance that he (and all of his friends, and Connor’s classmates, and quite possibly Hank) has misread the signs. North steamrolls over him anyway.

“My point is, you don’t need a birthday to buy him flowers, or take him to dinner, or whatever the hell else you romantic types get off on. You don’t need to make him happy on his birthday. Just do it every other day of the year.”

Frustratingly, as per usual, North is right. Markus doesn’t need a birthday as an excuse to spoil Connor, he can do it just because he wants to. And he does. He buys Connor those citrus tarts he’s so fond of when they go for coffee. He opens doors for him. He gives Connor an electric blue scarf, soft and silky to the touch, simply because he’d seen it and thought of him.

It’s satisfying to do these things for him. Markus has always been a giver, always loved doing and buying things for his friends. It fills some innate need in him to provide, to care for, but with Connor it’s on a much bigger scale. Every time Connor smiles at him the desire to look after him, to _spoil_ him is fuelled.

He admits as much to Josh when they’re at the mall and Markus finds himself entranced by a display of swiss chocolates. Connor has an insatiable sweet tooth.

“I love that you talk about him like he’s not about to graduate as a _cop_.” Markus ignores that. He’s seen Connor in the ring, at the shooting range. Connor’s a badass, in so many ways that all do wild things to his libido, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get to be treated gently, on occasion. “You do realise that you’d get to do the whole spoiling thing a lot more if you guys were actually dating.”

Markus huffs. He does in fact realise this. “He keeps giving me these weird looks.”

“You bought him a _scarf_ , man. In my experience, bros don’t buy bros scarves.”

Markus grimaces, still looking at the chocolates. “You think he’s figured it out?”

“I think if you show up with a literal box of chocolates he might start to get the hint.”

Markus buys the chocolates. And then drives straight over to Connor’s, even though they were already planning on meeting up the next day for a workout. Connor gets a bit obsessive with his fitness regime. He’s not entirely sure why he suddenly has to see him, has to give him the chocolates he’d picked out so carefully, just that Josh’s words have made him jittery.

Hank’s out, supposedly at the precinct. Markus is greeted at the door by a jubilant St Bernard and a somewhat subdued Connor, who smiles at him all the same as he lets him in. Markus holds the chocolates down and just behind him, suddenly, inexplicably nervous. Connor leads him to the kitchen and gives him a glass of water as they settle in at the table, eyes roaming across Markus’ face. Connor has a way of looking at you that makes you feel like you’re being scanned, like he can tell everything about you just from the expression on your face. Sometimes, in Markus’ more tired or drunk moments, he wonders if Connor’s already read the love he knows he wears on his face when he looks at him and simply dismissed it. Decided it was best left unacknowledged. The idea hurts more than he really knows how to handle.

“Are you okay, Markus?”

Markus flinches, just barely. “Yeah. Yeah, I… uh… I got you these.” He lifts the box and drops it with a thud onto the table, all the grace and suavity he’d planned gone straight out the window.

Connor’s eyebrows raise in surprise as he takes in the fancy packaging. He doesn’t speak for a moment, and Markus starts to fidget because the gentle smile that usually comes out when Markus gives him something isn’t present here. He thinks back on what Josh had said and wonders if this means Connor _does_ know, and isn’t interested. Is tired of the rich boy artist following him around like a lovesick puppy. Is planning out what to say, how to let him down gently, tell him it needs to stop –

“How did you know?”

Markus blinks at that. “Know what? That you like chocolate? It’s hardly a secret – “

“Markus.” Connor is looking at him, his gaze intense and slightly intimidating. “If this is about – about my birthday – “

“What?” Markus is truly confused now. He hasn’t brought up the birthday thing in months, why would a random present – oh shit. “Shit. It’s your birthday?”

Connor nods, not looking away. “You didn’t… that’s not why you’re giving me chocolates?”

“God, no,” says Markus anxiously, “no, man, I had no idea. I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have – I know you don’t like – “

Connor rests a hand on Markus’ arm, silencing him immediately. “It’s okay,” he says, even though his face is twisted into something that looks a little bit like grief. “It’s okay, Markus. Thank you.” He looks back down at the chocolates and finally, finally there’s that smile. Smaller than usual, but still there, still so heartbreakingly beautiful. “I love swiss chocolate.”

“I know,” Markus says without really noticing. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I didn’t mean to bring up any… bad memories.”

This is murky water here, having never outright discussed the birthday problem with Connor. He’s scared about saying the wrong thing, about screwing up more than he already has, but Connor just shakes his head. His smile grows a little bigger. “You didn’t. They were already there. You actually…” he looks back at Markus. “Thank you,” he says again, and Markus is shocked to see his eyes glistening in the way that preludes to tears. “This is nice. Thank you.”

The first tear falls and Connor immediately looks away, ashamed, but it’s too late. Markus is out of his chair and crouching in front of him before he can blink. He wraps his arms around Connor, pulls him forward and envelops him in a hug. Connor, who Markus has seen visibly pinch himself to prevent from allowing tears to fall before, melts into the embrace. His hands come up over Markus’ back to squeeze between his shoulder blades, his head burrows into the crook of his shoulder. There’s no sound but Connor’s body shakes and jolts with the force of his emotions, and Markus can feel tears dampening the fabric of his shirt. He has no idea what to say – doesn’t think Connor would appreciate words right now in any case – so he stays silent, tries to offer some measure of comfort in the warmth of his arms. He clings to Connor and lets Connor cling in return. His legs burn after a while from the position he’s left them in, but he doesn’t care. This, _this_ is what Connor needs, more than chocolates and scarves and romantic gestures. So this is what Markus will give him, for as long as he needs.

“It was an evaluation,” Connor mumbles some time later, his voice muffled against Markus. He leans back and Markus lets him go, watches as he sits back in his chair, composing himself. It’s scary how fast and natural he always makes it seem, reigning in his emotions like that.

“What?” he asks belatedly, the words sinking in. “What was?”

“My birthday,” Connor says. He won’t look directly at Markus. “It wasn’t a celebration, growing up. It was an evaluation.”

Markus slowly eases himself back onto his own chair. “Evaluation of what?”

“Me.” A puff of air, a dry smile. “My accomplishments, my failures. My – “ his voice catches slightly. “My mother would sit me down. Ask me how I think I’ve done. If I think I’ve improved from the year before. Where I think I can do better.”

“Connor,” breathes Markus. It sounds so clinical, so… cold. He thinks of Carl and wonders how on earth a parent could ever be so hard on their child.

“I would answer, and she would tell me all the ways I was wrong.” Connor’s still smiling that dead smile, his fingers making aimless patterns against the wood of the table. “I was never good enough. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried – “ he squeezes his eyes shut, just for a moment. One of his hands mirrors the action, clenching into a fist. “I always failed.”

Finally he looks at Markus, and the desolation in his warm brown eyes makes Markus physically ache. “Every birthday was a failure.”

Markus can’t stop himself – he reaches across and takes Connor’s hand in his own. He squeezes gently, brushes his thumb lightly across the knuckles. “You’re not a failure, Connor.”

Connor looks away. “Maybe.”

“No, look at me.” Markus waits until he does, wanting to look Connor in the eyes to get his message across. “You’re the most incredible person I have ever met. Look at you. You’re about to become a _cop_.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “It’s not that impressive – “

“Yes it is.” Markus adds pressure to the hand in his to emphasise it. “ _Yes it is_ , Connor. Everything about you is impressive. You’re scary smart, you’re talented – it’s mean, you know, the way you manage to pick up any skill in an afternoon. You make the rest of us look like schmucks.”

Connor actually laughs at that, a small, breathy thing, murmurs “ _schmucks_ ” with a glint of humour in his eyes. Markus smiles, but he isn’t done. “You’re funny. You’re caring. You’re so, so kind, Connor. I don’t have fun with anyone like I have fun with you.”

Connor looks genuinely surprised at that, which would be funny under different circumstances, because it’s not like Markus has been subtle about it.

After a moment, Connor grimaces. “I’ve messed up. I’m always messing up.”

“It doesn’t matter.” And at the look of scepticism, “it doesn’t, Connor. We all mess up. We’re human, for crying out loud.” Using his free hand, he reaches up and pokes Connor gently in the chest. “ _You_ are human. You’re not perfect, and you don’t have to be. None of us are.” He hesitates, but goes for a teasing tone when he adds “I guarantee you that mother of yours wasn’t.”

It works, Connor huffs out another small laugh even as he squeezes Markus’ hand back in gratitude.

“Thank you, Markus,” he says quietly.

“Any time,” he responds. “I’m sorry you were put through that. It wasn’t fair.”

Connor doesn’t respond; Markus gets the feeling he doesn’t know how to. He’s heard enough stories, watched enough TV to know children of abuse don’t always see their treatment as abuse, and can struggle with or even fight the concept that their parents did anything wrong. It makes him angry and so helpless to think about little Connor, looking up to his mother and desperately trying to figure out why he wasn’t good enough for her.

Connor clears his throat and nudges the since-forgotten box of chocolates. Changing the subject. “So, uh. If you didn’t know it was my birthday, why…”

Suddenly the whole reason Markus had come over in the first place comes rushing back to him and he immediately feels embarrassed. “Right. That.” Connor’s looking at him, genuine curiosity mixed with a quiet kind of happiness on his face. “Um. Well – I know you love sweet things.”

“I do,” Connor nods, his smile growing. He seems amused by Markus’ flailing, which he supposes is at least a bonus.

“Yeah. So. But, Josh was all, you know, ‘guys don’t buy their guy friends scarves and chocolates’, and, uh. Well. I know they don’t, usually. But.”

Connor’s still looking amused. “But?”

“But. Well. I like to buy you scarves and chocolates. Because. Um.”

They’re still holding hands. Markus had forgotten until now, Connor tightening his grip, and now he’s hyper-focused on it. “Because?” Connor prompts. He sounds… hopeful.

Markus focuses back on the other’s face and suddenly he sees it. Connor knows. Connor’s looking right at him, pleased and hopeful and maybe a little bit shy, because Connor knows, and Connor…

Markus has always been better at show than tell. He gives up on his rambling words and leans in instead. His heart threatens to rabbit out of his chest when he notices Connor doing the same, and suddenly they’re kissing. Markus is kissing Connor.

It’s slow and gentle, but as Markus brings his free hand up to grab at Connor’s soft hair he feels a stirring in his gut, a fire that’s building the more he has Connor’s lips on his.

All of Connor’s birthdays have been about failure, but this. This isn’t a failure. This is a success, an excitement, this is a celebration. This is everything birthdays are meant to be. Connor gasps into Markus’ mouth and Markus lets go of his hand so that he can run his up Connor’s leg. He’s making a resolution in his head; he’s going to show Connor how to celebrate. He’s going to show this gorgeous man everything about just how good birthdays can be. He’s going to start right here, right now, and he’ll do it every year to come for as long as Connor will let him. No more failures, no more evaluations. Just this. Them.

Happy.


End file.
